Tunnel Vision

Chapter 8- Light of Understanding

Rowan and Gray had lit all of the candles they could find, but even with the amount that they had, not much of the room was lit. 
"Look at all this stuff!" Rowan exclaimed as she and Gray looked for a way out.  Rowan could not stop spinning and looking at everything in wonder and awe.  It had been ages since she had felt this truly at home.  "Look at how colorful those clothes are!  And look up there, that's a painting of the Last Supper.  Woah, look at these flower seed packets!  Sunflowers, violets, daisies...why in the world is all this illegal?"
    "Huh?" Gray, who had not been paying attention due to his nervousness, said blankly. 
    "I said why is all this illegal?" Rowan responded, still wandering about, carrying a small, bright candle. 
Gray paused.  Why is it illegal? That was something he had never questioned, despite his background.  He had just gone with the flow as everybody else had.  No I haven't. He thought of the small silver box that lay under his bed.  I just hid away, afraid. "I don't know," he finally responded to Rowan.  "Come on, we need to keep looking for a way out."  He began walking, looking for a hidden door, an air vent, any type of escape route.  He had to get out of here before his mind exploded from thoughts of the box, the past, his parents...  Gray felt his forehead begin to grow sticky with a thin layer of sweat as he pulled at the neck of his suit jacket.  Then, he heard the most bizarre noise coming from behind him.  He stopped dead in his tracks as he turned around to see Rowan sitting at a large grand piano.
    Rowan began to play a quiet song.  Gray was completely absorbed, the music seeming to pull him closer to the piano until he was standing by the bench next to Rowan.  He was hypnotized by the way the candlelight danced with her fingers as they gracefully flew across the ivory keys.  Rowan ended the song and looked up at Gray. 
"That song is called Canon.  It's by Pachelbel." 
Gray nodded still staring at the keys.  Something was happening to him, what exactly he did not know.  He longed to see words, hear them, grip something and write them, understand them.  He ran his fingers through his gunpowder hair. 
"Gray?" Rowan asked.  "Are you alright?" 
He turned to her.  He could answer that he was fine, but he remembered who he was talking to.  She wanted the truth, and that is what she would get.
"Something is happening to me, I don't really know what.  I think it's this room.  Everything in it is just... I don't know...making me feel something.  And then you started playing what do you call it? Music?  I just don't know what to do with myself..."
There was a long pause between them as Rowan considered Gray.  "Have you ever heard of the Fine Arts?" she finally asked him. 
"No," he answered. 
"Okay," she said.  "Well, most of the things in this room have to do with reading and writing, drawing and painting, and/or music.  Those are the basic Fine Arts.  And I think I figured out why they are illegal.  Because they trigger emotion."
"What is that?"
"Emotion? It's basically a natural state of  mind that results from your mood or a circumstance you are in.  Your society doesn't want you to feel because they want you to work and focus.  To reinforce what they make you learn from mindless robots that in turn, make you mindless.  Don't you see what I mean?"
"I think I'm beginning to understand.  A little.  But is it wrong to feel emotions?" 
Rowan stood up and looked directly into Gray's eyes.  "No.  Whoever the founders of Tunol were purposely built up walls around their society so you could only see what they wanted you to see which is directly in front of you.  But it is up to you to tear the walls down so you can see everything else."
    Gray looked thoughtfully down at Rowan who was looking up at him in return.  Those hazel eyes really did seem to know everything.  "One day," Gray said, "I'm gonna fix this world.  I'll make all this stuff legal so everyone can see life more like the way you see it."  Rowan blushed at this.  Gray gave her a small smile.  "Of course," he said, "I'm only just starting to open my eyes. I need to fully understand all of this emotion stuff."
"Well then, welcome, Mr. Bram, to Rowan Iris' School of Fine Arts.  Class is now in session."
"Are you sure you'll teach me?"
"Why not?  We have nothing but time, right?"